Verses, Addressed to a Female Republican
The European Magazine, XXXV (January 1799), p. 46
The world all equal! vain illusion!
Think, charming Julia, what confusion
Your doctrine would create;
The French might then, the day their own,
Reform our altar and our throne,
And organize the state.
To reign, by beauty's soft controul,
The Sovereign of the captive soul,
Would then be public treason;
The Queen of Love herself might dread
To lose her throne, perhaps her head,
In our new "Age of Reason."
Cease to defend so bad a cause;
Should you subvert our good old laws,
Yourself too dear would pay;
For Chaos then would cover all,
Talents and graces prostrate fall,
To "Vive l'Egalité"
If what you say be just and real
That all distinction is ideal,
Pray stem this mighty evil;
Destroy your own pre-eminence,
In wit, accomplishments, and sense,
And join our humble level.
Till then, I own, I hope to see
Subjects and Kings in peace agree,
To earth's remotest border;
France once more own Religion's sway,
And for the Order of the Day,
Restore the days of order.